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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162267">Furmiliar Catastrophes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506'>Project0506</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soft Wars Silly Sides [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Animal Transformation, Cats, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Luckily Rex has figured out that thumbs thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CC-1138 | Bacara/CT-7567 | Rex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soft Wars Silly Sides [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>318</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Furmiliar Catastrophes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For that one nonnie (you know who you were) who totally derailed the next chapter of blanket because this was too darn cute and I had to.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘You’ll know when you need it,’ Rex had said with that deliberately nonchalant brand of enigmatic gravitas that meant he wanted to seem particularly clever. ‘Pretentious’ Bacara had thought, amused but indulging anyway. Now though, he can sort of see what Rex meant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lockbox isn’t locked. Isn’t even latched properly, though that’s probably the point. It’d open with a gentle tap or, if you’re particularly small, a good nudge. Tucked under their bed for easy access if somehow, remarkably, a person finds themselves much closer to the ground than is usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of many, meticulously stocked and staged in a row just inside the overhang of Bacara’s favorite duvet. The one he needs right now is clear: the paw print on the lid couldn’t have been any more obvious. He flicks away what looks like a bracelet with a bell in the center, fishes out the pair of holopads right under that, and sets the chunkier down on the hardwood floor. It’s a cheerful, friendly blue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘<em>Why</em> are we shopping for a Kel Dor baby’s first holopad?’ Bacara had asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘Multiple reasons and for multiple situations,’ Rex had said entirely unhelpfully. ‘But primarily because they’re meant to be resistant to Kel Dor child claws, and Kel Dor thumb joints have minimal range of motion in youth.’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rex taps the holopad on and smacks impatiently at the smiling cartoon sea creature that fills the screen as it loads. Bacara’s ‘pad chimes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>You wouldn’t have believed me</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Linked ‘pads then. Clever Rex, always prepared. Even for the preposterous. Bacara settles back against the bed, legs outstretched. Sleet patters at the bedroom windows and the standing heater tries desperately to cough out enough warm air to offset.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think so?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rex huffs, bats at the large, colorful Aurebesh tiles on his screen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em><span class="u">I</span> don’t believe me</em> he taps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bacara carefully shrugs. “I’ve come to believe just about anything with Torrent.” He hides his grin behind one hand at the sheer <em>indignation</em> that gets him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>NOT TORRENT</em> Rex slaps out and the holopad rattles from the abuse. <em>WOLFPACK.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There isn’t a single Wolfpack member for miles.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Wolfpack</em> Rex insists. <em>Somehow. Bastards. Gonna bite them.</em> He growls low and dangerous and Bacara? Is <em>delighted</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No no,” he says to Rex’s narrow-eyed glare. “That was a very ferocious sound. It is just. Rex. You are very small.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I’ve. Noticed.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And cute.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I have a Bite Force of 118 Newtons</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look soft.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As hints go, it isn’t subtle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rex glares beskar-hard and sandwyvern-poisonous and that delights Bacara too. He’s not sure if it’s the shape of the head or some other tendency of the species, but Rex generally has a face of disapproval that could scour paint off a ship-to-shore transport hull, right through the heatproof coating. Right now he has the kind of disapproval Bacara wants to poke. See if it will fluff up a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rex grumbles disgustedly, tucks all his legs in under his belly and hunkers down. Bacara takes it for the ungracious surrender it is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He is <em>incredibly</em> soft. His purr is incredibly, impressively resentful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He collapses against Bacara’s thigh in a boneless, aggrieved puddle. He sighs and his whole side billows with it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does this wear off?” The fur around Rex’s ears is the silkiest but the part down his stomach is cottony soft, and a good scratch at his hindquarters makes his eyes go closed and his tail tick like a metronome. Bacara scratches and Rex chirrups grumpily and rolls himself into Bacara’s lap as though bestowing great favor. He reaches a paw out to the discarded pad but idly, a token gesture that makes no effort at following through when he finds it out of his reach. His chirp is demanding, and Bacara obediently fetches it closer for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Obediently puts it down, propped up within Rex’s reach but out of Bacara’s hand. Apparently Bacara’s hand being occupied with something other than scratching Rex isn’t to be tolerated. Rex nips pointedly at the closest finger, grouses all the way through shoving his tiny skull back under one of Bacara’s palms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His whole body isn’t much bigger than one of them. He’s a double-handful at most, all told. He’d be five pounds soaking wet and wearing a three pound weight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Jedi idiocy</em>. <em>Sometimes wears off, sometimes needs the right antidote. Jedi have to figure it out</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This face is built for sly, and if Rex tried to hide the look he was failing miserably. He’s a terrible liar on a good day. Neyo despairs, to Bacara and in public, often and loudly. <em>True love’s kiss might work</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh? Should I call Ponds for you?” An offended Rex <em>does</em> puff up, tail fluffed like the galaxy's angriest pinefruit shrub in the noonday sun. Rex snarls and faster than he can smack, Bacara kisses the top of his husband’s hissy, pissy nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It predictably does nothing at all. At least, nothing about the sudden fuzzy predicament. It does put Bacara within range of a counter attack. Rex snatches the chance to lick at Bacara’s beard, grimaces open-mouthed and derisive, turns his back and sneezes. Makes to jump off Bacara’s leg and only reluctantly halts when the petting resumes and he’s corralled gently back into Bacara’s lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s winter and the floor is leeches heat, no matter the beleaguered heating coils under the wood that they’ll have to figure out how to fix. It’s hell on Bacara’s knee, truth be told, and Daan and Keller both will have much-deserved words to say about it when next he has to convince the medics surgery isn’t necessary. But Rex runs hot on a good day and, new fur coat or not, he has to be feeling the bite. Worse through his paws. Bacara pets the bottom of his feet, pushes gently on the pink pads and tapping the points of the claws that peek out in response. No furring there at all, the floor must chill his feet terribly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s winter, and Bacara’s grateful. Any other season would have seen Rex out somewhere right now, hunting or whatever it is Torrents do when they can’t sit quietly indoors any longer. Concord Dawn is dangerous enough for man-sized warriors. Rex’s current size isn’t even a meal, isn’t even enough for one full snack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rubs a finger against the rumble of Rex’s throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All trust, no hesitation, no matter what size he is. Rex presses into hands that spent more time destroying than building. Bacara cups him close to his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rolling purr, the gentle vibration in his hands and against his sternum, the edge of the mattress soft against the back of his neck, the ice-bite-taste of snow in the air outside: it pulls serenity around Bacara like a hug and his eyes start to droop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Should call someone,” he mutters, unconvincingly. He doesn’t move. Rex, if anything, purrs more loudly. “Someone should start work on fixing this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s far too easy for Rex to arch up, hook his paws over Bacara’s shoulders and nudge his head against his jaw. It’s far too diabolical, that when he purrs like that it echoes all the way down Bacara’s spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tat,” Bacara protests without bite. Rex’s purr is annoyingly smug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bacara only knows he’s fallen asleep when he’s torn awake, a distant shriek of <em>“Marine! </em><em>SOS!”</em> and a dog’s suspiciously happy yipping invading his house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rex the cat, slung over his shoulder, snores.</p>
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